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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829196">Hell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlestialbeings/pseuds/cestlestialbeings'>cestlestialbeings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Unrequited Wincest [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Consensual Sex, Hell Trauma, Heterosexual Dean Winchester, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Dean Winchester, Past Alastair/Dean Winchester, Past Rape/Non-con, Season/Series 04, Trauma Reenactment, Traumatized Dean Winchester, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:49:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlestialbeings/pseuds/cestlestialbeings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is plagued by memories of what Alastair did to him in Hell. He asks Sam for sex to help get past the trauma.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Unrequited Wincest [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s in Hell.</p>
<p>Dean is chained down, and Alastair is inside him. A voice rings out over the screams around him: <em>Some hero you are, hmm?</em> Dean pulls at his chains with a desperate sob, but the restraints are tight, and they chafe at his already sore wrists. Alastair laughs as he rapes Dean. It hurts, of course it does, but the real torture comes from the complete loss of control, the helplessness, the humiliation.</p>
<p>A tear slips down his cheek, and then he jerks awake.</p>
<p>He’s in the Impala’s passenger seat, next to Sam, his head resting against the window. It’s dark out now, the only light coming from the car’s dashboard and from the headlights illuminating the highway in front of them. The clock reads 9:00 P.M.</p>
<p>Sam looks over at him. “You okay, dude?”</p>
<p>“What?” Dean asks, Alastair’s laugh still echoing in his head. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Sam says, though he doesn’t sound like he believes it. Still, he doesn’t press. He hasn’t, since Dean told him he wasn’t ready to talk about Hell, and Dean is glad for that. Sammy can press so hard to talk about things sometimes, it drives Dean nuts. “You chose a good time to wake up,” Sam adds. “We’re about ten minutes away from our stop.”</p>
<p>“Cool,” Dean says. He stares at the window. He wishes they could skip ahead to morning. He’s not sure he can make it through another sleepless night, trying to pass the time until daylight without dwelling on his decades in Hell.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long for them to reach a motel. They get keys to a room (“A king?” “Two queens.”) and follow the routine they’ve had for years, bringing in their stuff, setting the room up how they like it.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna hit the hay,” Sam says.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ll get some rest too,” Dean says.</p>
<p>Sam nods, pausing to look at Dean intently. “You good?” he asks.</p>
<p>Dean scoffs. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be good?”</p>
<p>“Just making sure.”</p>
<p>When the lights are out, Dean stares at the ceiling. Pieces of memory flash through his head. <em>Look at you. The righteous man,</em> a scornful voice says. <em>How does it make you feel to be used like this?</em> <em>Do you like it?</em></p>
<p>That’s it. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, and turns on the light.</p>
<p>“Dean?” Sam says. He rolls over and squints at Dean through the suddenly bright light. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I just… I couldn’t sleep.”</p>
<p>“Anything I can do to help? Do you want to talk?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t want to talk,” Dean says with a scowl. He closes his eyes. He can’t think straight, when the thoughts and memories are going through his head again and again and again, relentless. He needs to do something to stop it. Not talk about it. No way. But…</p>
<p>He opens his eyes and looks at Sam. It’s a crazy idea, but reenacting the situation, but this time where he’s in control? Would that work? Would that break him out of these circuitous thoughts?</p>
<p>Sam’s still looking at him like he expects Dean to break down any moment. Dean’s not entirely sure he’s not going to. He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Sam. Can you fuck me?”</p>
<p>Sam’s eyes widen and he sits up fully in bed. “What? Where the hell is this coming from?”</p>
<p>Dean grits his teeth and looks away. He shouldn’t have asked.</p>
<p>“Dean? Talk to me.”</p>
<p>“What they did to me down there…” He bites his lip. “I can’t get it out of my head.”</p>
<p>“And you think sex would help? Sex with… me?”</p>
<p>Dean can feel his cheeks burning. “Just forget I said anything.”</p>
<p>Sam watches him for a few moments, totally silent. “Okay,” he finally says. “Good night, then.” He lays back down and rolls over.</p>
<p>“Wait,” Dean says.</p>
<p>Sam rolls back over to face Dean again and raises his eyebrows.</p>
<p>“I just… I don’t want to remember it. With him. I want to do it on my terms.”</p>
<p>“Dean…” Sam says softly.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to,” Dean says. He wants to say <em>just forget it</em> again, but he doesn’t want Sam to just forget it.</p>
<p>Sam exhales. “You really think it would help?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Dean says. “Maybe.”</p>
<p>“You’re not doing it for me again?”</p>
<p>Dean thinks back to the last two times—the first, to get Sam to stay after Dean had found out about Sam’s unrequited attraction; the second, a love-potion induced stupor to give Sam a good memory of Dean before Hell. “No,” he says. “This would be for me. I know it’s crazy, I probably shouldn’t even be asking, but…”</p>
<p>Sam slips out of bed and sits down next to Dean on Dean’s bed.</p>
<p>“Tell me what you need.”</p>
<p>What does Dean need? He hesitates as he thinks about it.</p>
<p>“This?” Sam asks gently, resting a hand on the side of Dean’s neck. He brushes a thumb along Dean’s cheek and Dean closes his eyes and shivers.</p>
<p>“No,” Dean says, opening his eyes again. “No, just… Straight to it.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Sam drops his hand.</p>
<p>“Have you ever… With a guy?” Dean asks.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sam says.</p>
<p>“Are you the one who fucks or gets fucked?”</p>
<p>“Depends,” Sam says. “I’ve done both.”</p>
<p>“Okay. Okay,” Dean says. He swallows, his mouth dry. “So you know what you’re doing.”</p>
<p>Sam nods.</p>
<p>“I’ll let you take the lead,” Dean says, because he has no idea what it’s supposed to be like, when it’s not forced.</p>
<p>He pulls off his t-shirt and slips out his sweats. He feels exposed, and vulnerable. Nothing Sam hasn’t seen before, but it still feels weird. He lays down on his stomach on the bed—same position as Hell, but this time it’s soft, and comfortable, and there’s no chains—as Sam strips off his clothes too. Sam goes and grabs something from his bag.</p>
<p>“What’s that?” Dean asks, propping himself up on his elbows and looking over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Lube,” Sam says. “And towels. And a condom.”</p>
<p>Dean lies back down, resting his cheek on his forearms.</p>
<p>The bed springs squeak a little as Sam sits down next to Dean. “I’m going to finger you a little to stretch you out, okay?” Sam asks.</p>
<p>Dean closes his eyes. “Don’t tell me what you’re doing, just do it.”</p>
<p>“But you’ll tell me if you want me to stop?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>There’s a squirting sound as Sam puts some lube on his fingers and then a cold, wet finger slides into Dean’s hole. He inhales sharply and tenses.</p>
<p>“Relax,” Sam says, running a callused hand over Dean’s shoulders.</p>
<p>“Don’t,” Dean says, his voice low, and Sam’s immediately pulls his hand back. Still, Dean does relax, and it eases some of the discomfort. After a moment another finger slips in, and then another a minute later. It hurts at first, but soon the pain turns into a warm, low pleasure.</p>
<p>This isn’t so bad. The thoughts of Hell prod insistently at the back of his mind, but he pushes himself back against Sam, takes his fingers in a little deeper, pushes the thoughts away for now.</p>
<p>Sam’s fingers pull out and Dean takes a shaky breath.</p>
<p>He feels Sam’s dick line up with his hole.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?” Sam asks gently.</p>
<p>“Don’t ask,” Dean says.</p>
<p>Sam pushes in and there’s a bloom of pain. Dean gasps and bites his arm.</p>
<p>“Dean?” Sam asks, and he starts to pull out.</p>
<p>“No, no,” Dean says breathlessly. “Keep going.”</p>
<p>Sam acquiesces, slowly pushing in until he’s all the way in. Dean takes short, rapid breaths, trying to adjust to the presence inside him.</p>
<p>“It’s easier if you relax,” Sam says gently, so Dean tries. He lets the tension seep out of his body as much as he can until he grows more comfortable. Sam is holding steady, waiting for Dean to say something.</p>
<p>“Go,” Dean says.</p>
<p>“Mm.” Sam rocks in and out of Dean slowly, gently. There’s discomfort, at first, but the lube is letting Sam’s dick slide along easily enough inside Dean. Dean lets out a slight moan of pleasure as Sam hits just the right spot in him.</p>
<p>And then Hell comes back. Screams and fire around him, and Alastair, too big inside him, murmuring, <em>What would your daddy think of you now?</em></p>
<p>“Sammy,” Dean says. “Sammy. Talk to me.”</p>
<p>“What do you want me to say?” Sam says, sounding a little breathless himself.</p>
<p>“Anything. Like… tell me about some nerd stuff you learned about recently.”</p>
<p>“Uh…” Sam clears his throat. “I was listening to an NPR story about American incarceration rates while you were asleep in the car.”</p>
<p>“Tell me about that.” Not the sexiest topic, but “sexy” isn’t what Dean’s trying to get out of this. He pushes himself back into Sam a little more. “And keep going.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Sam says. He starts to move again, continuing to fuck Dean, but not too hard. He tells Dean about the school-to-prison pipeline, and the number of life sentences for non-violent crimes, and the systemic racism that plagues the criminal justice system. Dean is only half-listening, his eyes still closed while he takes deep, shaky breaths, letting the sensations wash over him—and they’re just that. Sensations, not shame, not degradation.</p>
<p>He lets Sam’s voice associate with the feeling. Familiar, comfortable Sam. Not Alastair’s harsh tone, hissing out jibes and insults. What Dean is doing now… It’s the same thing that happened with him with Alastair, but it’s not. This sex isn’t meant to harm, it’s meant to comfort, in a twisted, fucked-up way that even Dean can’t really understand.</p>
<p>“And a big problem is privately run prisons, which—“ Sam’s breaths are shorter. “Which means…” Dean blinks his eyes open as Sam’s thrusts get harder and faster. “God. Dean.” He gasps and comes.</p>
<p>Dean’s mind jumps back. Hot breath against his ear, a low, harsh voice. <em>Do you still feel like a man, Dean?</em></p>
<p>Sam pulls out, still breathing hard, and his concerned voice contrasts with the memory of Alastair’s. “How was… Was that okay? How are you feeling?” He grabs a towel from on the bed next to him and cleans them both up.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean says. “Yeah, that was…” He struggles to find a word to adequately describe the strange feelings it had brought up. “That was okay.”</p>
<p>“Did it help?”</p>
<p>Dean nods. It did. The memories have slowed down, at least. He feels a little more in control of them. He rolls out of bed and grabs his clothes from the floor and slips into them quickly before sitting back on his bed.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Sam says. He cleans up a little more—towels in the bathroom, condom in the trash, lube back in his duffel, clothes back on—and then comes back to sit on his own bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p>
<p>“Not really,” Dean says.</p>
<p>Sam frowns, but nods. “All right. So… Good night?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean says, but then he pauses. He’s feeling better, but he still doesn’t want to spend the night by himself. He stands up and walks over to Sam. “Actually, move over.”</p>
<p>Sam raises his eyebrows and scoots to the other side of the bed. Dean crawls in next to Sam. Sam wraps an arm around Dean and Dean rests his head on Sam’s chest, listening to the slow, steady heartbeat under the firm muscle.</p>
<p>He feels a little guilty, now, in Sam’s arms. He’d only been thinking of himself. Had it been too selfish? To ask Sam to do that for him, when he knew how Sam felt about him?</p>
<p>“Are <em>you</em> okay?” he asks Sam.</p>
<p>Sam looks down at Dean. “Why wouldn’t I be?”</p>
<p>“Because this doesn’t change how I feel.”</p>
<p>Sam sighs, his chest rising and falling beneath Dean’s cheek. “I know.”</p>
<p>Dean wants to ask more questions, find out what Sam means. What he’s really feeling. But Dean is sleepy, and calm for the first time in weeks, and he starts to fall asleep.</p>
<p>Sam reaches over him and clicks the light off. “Good night, Dean,” he says softly, as Dean’s consciousness starts to drift away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trauma reenactment (<a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3330499/#__sec1title">e.g.</a>) is a thing that can sometimes help someone gain mastery and control over memories of a traumatic event, though I had some trouble finding any detailed information beyond the basic gist of it.</p>
<p>Constructive criticism and thoughts on the work are welcome :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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